Work Text:
Interrupted at her work, Akari sat back with a flare of irritation, bringing a hand to her brow. Another tap at the door and she drew a deep breath, glancing at it.
“Kaasan?”
Akari smiled; now that was an interruption she generally minded far less. Any of her children. She called an invitation, and Madara slid the door open, returning her smile and giving a shallow bow.
There was something about the look in his eyes that made Akari’s focus sharpen, the inventories and agreements she’d been going over forgotten.
Izuna followed him in, but kept carefully tucked halfway behind him, and Akari frowned. Izuna was the darling of her heart, to be sure - as she adored all her children - but she was also a mischief, and if she were hiding behind Madara. . .
“Hello, my darlings.” Akari said, beckoning them to her and sliding away from the table.
“We need to talk to you.” Madara said, reaching around to close the door, keeping his arm around his sister’s shoulders.
“Any time.” Akari encouraged gently. “What is it?” She looked at Izuna, a deep breath bringing her the bitter tinge of anxiety edging her daughter’s scent - as well as the heaviness to Madara’s seared-steel scent that only underlined his protective manner. The pair of them had always been closest, among her children; Izuna looked to Madara perhaps before anyone else, and Madara, who would burn himself out for any of his family - Madara who was most like herself, Akari was aware, sometimes painfully - doted on her attentively in return.
“I don’t want you to be- be disappointed.” Izuna said, and Akari frowned, glancing from her face to Madara’s - he scowled, squeezing Izuna’s shoulders - and back.
“Darling.” Akari reached out, arms open, and was surprised when Izuna curled away, pressing in tight to Madara’s side. “What could possibly-”
“I- I’m your Izuna.” Izuna said, dark eyes glossy and wide, and Akari nodded a little.
“Always.” she murmured, and Izuna smiled, just for a breath, wavering and then gone.
“But I- I’m not your-” Izuna cringed, gesturing. “I’m not- It’s me but-” She looked up at Madara helplessly, sniffling, and Akari’s heart ached.
“Anything, Izuna.” Akari said softly, worry twisting her stomach up in knots. This was not like her daughter, and for something to be this distressing. . . And that Akari had no idea. . . “Please, what is it?”
“I’m. . .” Izuna closed her eyes, shaking her head and burying her face in Madara’s shoulder.
Madara held her close, nuzzling her tousled hair. “Izuna isn’t a girl;” he said, and Akari stilled, “you have five sons, Kaasan.” he added, simple and steady, gaze even, and Izuna let out a shaky breath, but nodded, peeking out.
Akari opened her mouth, then closed it. She had to be careful; Izuna looked like she- like he might break at any moment - like he might have already had Madara not been holding him together. Speaking for him.
A flash of memory, an old friend - of sorts - Akari had not thought of for years rose in her mind; first met across a battlefield . . . and careless of that upon their next meeting in a tiny glade, though they had both still borne the wounds of that first battle. Akari had never known whether to call Sakai a woman or a man - though unquestionably an alpha - and they had only laughed at the very idea of being so defined.
Hatake were wild and constrained by no rules save their own; Akari would let no one else’s rules constrain her children, hurt them, either. And she would countenance no hurt to them at her hands or from her lips, not for anything.
“Oh musuko,” Akari said quietly, rising and going to her children, “how could I be disappointed? My beautiful Izuna.” She drew him close, hands sliding over his shoulders, though Madara didn’t let go of his brother either, and kissed his brow. “My boy.” She stroked his hair, smiling at Madara and clasping his shoulder, then turning her full attention back to Izuna.
He smiled, eyes wide and face wet, and Akari smiled back, cupping his face.
Izuna could barely look up at their mother, though he grimaced at his own reaction; he’d not even managed to speak for himself. He’d planned to, but somehow, faced with their mother. . .
It wasn’t that Izuna doubted how much she loved him - all of them - but it was harder even than he had thought it might be to look her in the face and tell her the truth about himself. To face disappointing her, even if she weren’t angry, even if she accepted this, accepted him . . . it lanced painful uncertainty through him.
Izuna took a breath, thick with the familiar, comforting scent of his brother; all metal and the soft, indefinable edge of flame. Izuna’s face was still mostly buried in Madara’s shoulder, blocking out most everything else. He was glad of Madara at his side, and his brother’s steady words when his own had failed.
“Oh, musuko, how could I be disappointed?”
Izuna stilled, breath catching. When he managed to lift his head, their mother was almost beside them. She reached out, hands smoothing over Izuna’s shoulders, familiar and warm, moving in close. “My beautiful Izuna.” she said, and kissed his brow, stroking his hair. “My boy.”
Izuna smiled at his mother, meeting her eyes and finding little but familiar affection there - perhaps she was surprised, maybe even uneasy, but-
Another gentle tug, and Izuna sank into his mother’s arms, burying himself against her strength. She hugged him tight, drawing Madara in as well, and Izuna closed his eyes, breathing deeply; even the dizzying maelstrom of uncertainty and worry and elation calmed here, caught between the two people in the world who now and always most meant security and home to Izuna.